


Do(u)sed

by mithrel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: Shiro gets hit with a mysterious powder when he, Lance and Keith are on a planet.





	Do(u)sed

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe I've been in fandom nearly 20 years and I've yet to write a sex pollen fic? Time to remedy that!

It’s just a routine mission. He, Lance and Keith are on an uninhabited planet looking for supplies (since Lance had thrown a fit on the forty-third day in a row he was asked to eat food goo). Since Lance had complained, Allura had told him in no uncertain terms that he can find alternatives while the rest of them are off doing other things. They have scanners that check if the plants are edible and nutritious, but they’re relying on Hunk to make them palatable.

Shiro pushes aside a hanging creeper, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The junglelike climate of this planet may be lush, but it’s also muggy and close.

There’s no warning.

Behind the creeper is a large yellow flower that squirts dust in his face.

He recoils, choking, a hand coming up automatically to brush the dust away from his mouth.

“ _Shiro!_ ”

Keith’s at his side instantly, but Shiro waves him away, taking off his helmet and doing his best to clean off the dust. “We don’t know…what this stuff is!” he chokes out.

Keith scowls, but moves back.

He’s lucky he was wearing his armor; the dust only touched the lower half of his face. On the other hand, he’d inhaled a fair amount of it, so maybe he’s not so lucky.

He can hear Keith contacting the castleship, letting Coran know the situation, his tone shifting from concerned to angry.

Shiro and Lance both look at him, and he growls “Allura is off the castle for the foreseeable future and Coran doesn’t have enough energy to wormhole, so we should ‘do what we can to make him comfortable,’” Keith says, his tone dripping disgust. “That stuff could be deadly!”

“I don’t know, Keith,” Shiro says. “It hasn’t had any ill effects yet–“

“Which doesn’t mean it won’t,” Lance interrupts him, coming to pull Shiro’s arm over his shoulder. “I’m with Keith on this one.”

Keith comes to support his other side before Shiro can protest that he can still _walk,_ and they go looking for shelter.

***

They end up holing up in a nearby cave, since it’s a good half-hour’s trek back to their Lions. Lance and Keith sit him on an outcropping while they yank up some vines for him to lie on. Shiro is feeling fine, only a little warm and fuzzy-headed.

He lies down on the makeshift bed, and Lance takes a cloth to wipe the sweat off his forehead. It’s immediately replaced with more, and Shiro realizes he’s shivering.

“Shit, he’s feverish,” Keith says, and suddenly hands are at his chestplate, taking off his armor and leaving him in the skintight undersuit.

A warm weight settles down on either side of him, and a voice murmurs in his ear “Hang in there, Shiro.”

His head feels fuzzy, but some things are preternaturally clear. The warmth of Keith and Lance next to him, the sound of their breathing, and the heat pulsing in his blood.

Shiro suddenly realizes with horror that the heat is arousal, and he’s hardening. He tries to ignore it, but the tightness of his suit makes it nearly impossible.

He reaches down stealthily, intending only to adjust himself, but the brush of his fingers is too much and his breath hitches.

Before he realizes it, he’s palming himself through the thin fabric, doing his best to be discreet but almost sure he’s failing. It takes him approximately five seconds before he’s coming, and he hears a shocked “Holy _shit!_ " from his right.

His orgasm does nothing to relieve the prickling heat in his veins, so he keeps stroking.

A hand takes hold of his wrist and pulls it away and Shiro bites back a curse.

Lance’s eyes are wide as he gazes down at him, and his throat moves as he swallows. How has Shiro never noticed before how long Lance’s neck is? “Uh, Shiro, it might not be a good idea to–“

Shiro tears his arm away from Lance’s hold and clenches his fists at his sides, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, cheeks burning with humiliation and continued heat.

He can hear Keith and Lance whispering across his body, but he can’t pay attention to the words, not when it’s taking everything he has to keep from tearing off his suit and rutting into the pallet like an animal.

Then a hand–Keith’s hand–is on his cheek, and Shiro bites back a moan at the touch. “Keith…you should leave.” He’s under no illusions of what might happen if they stay here much longer, and he’d be damned if he's going to subject either of them to that.

Lance snorts. “Yeah, like we’re leaving you like this.”

Keith’s hand is still on his cheek. “Shiro, we’ll help you.”

 _Help me…_ He runs the words through his mind three times before the sense of them penetrates and his eyes widen. “Keith, no I can’t ask you–“

“Uh, _hello,_ you didn’t ask us, we offered,” Lance says, and reaches underneath him, urging his shoulders up so he can start working down the zipper on Shiro’s suit.

Shiro resists. “That doesn’t matter, I’m the leader, you’re my teammates–“

“Exactly,” Keith says. “We’re your teammates, and teammates help each other.”

Lance has managed to get him sitting up enough to unzip his suit to mid-back, and the feel of his hand on Shiro’s back is enough to still any further protests he might have. He lifts his hips up, allowing Lance to pull the zipper down the rest of the way.

Lance discards the suit a moment later, and suddenly there’s _skin_ at his chest, and he realizes Keith used his distraction to take his own suit off.

Shiro can’t help arching into the touch, and then Lance’s own chest is at his back and wiry arms are around him and hands running over his chest.

He moans, and Lance leans forward to whisper hoarsely in his ear “It’s alright, we’ve got you,” and Keith’s hand is around his cock.

Shiro abandons any remnant of thought and just lets the fire in his blood consume him.

He arches forward into Keith, his mouth falling open, and then he feels Lance’s hand reach between them and spread him open.

He hisses as Lance’s finger breaches him to the second knuckle. They don’t have any lube, and it _burns._ He pulls away from the touch and simultaneously fucks himself forward into Keith’s fist.

Lance stays still for a moment, then pushes his finger the rest of the way in. He lets Shiro adjust, then crooks his finger, and Shiro’s coming into the tight circle of Keith’s fingers.

He takes a long, shuddering breath, looking at Keith. His lips are swollen, as though he’s bitten them, but his expression is one Shiro’s intimately familiar with from other situations–determined concern.

Shiro’s able to catch his breath, his pulse settling, as Lance wipes his hair off his face, before the heat takes him again.

Keith must see the shift in his expression, because he rubs Shiro’s cheek, then spreads his own thighs a few inches apart. “Best I can do under the circumstances,” he says, as he pulls Shiro forward, urges him to thrust.

It doesn’t take more than the brush of skin before Shiro’s lost in the clench and heat and movement of it. Dimly, behind him, he feels Lance spread his cheeks again and fuck his own cock between them, hissing out “God, _Shiro,_ you’re so…” and trailing off into a groan.

Shiro comes again, and again a few minutes later, losing track of who his partners are, who _he_ is, lost in a haze of sweat and pleasure.

When, what could be hours later, he finally is able to think coherently again, he freezes. What had they– What had _he_ done?

It’s Keith, predictably, who sees the panic in his eyes, and he takes hold of his chin, not allowing him to look away.

“Shiro. Listen to me, alright?”

He doesn’t reply, tries to pull away from Keith’s touch, but Keith gives his head a shake and repeats “ _Listen_ to me!”

He manages a tiny nod.

“You didn’t take advantage of us, or force us into anything, got it? Everything we did was voluntary, to help you, because we didn’t have access to the castle and there’s no way of knowing if you could have dealt with this by yourself, understand?”

He nods again, but Keith’s not satisfied with that. “ _Understand?_ ”

“I understand,” he whispers, and Keith finally lets go of his face.

“Besides,” Lance quips from behind him. “I dunno about Keith, but it’s not like I’m going to pass up this opportunity!”

Shiro whirls to stare at him, incredulous. He might have expected Keith to say something like that–-well, not really, it’s a quintessentially Lance thing to say–but he might have expected Keith to want to do this, given the opportunity, not _Lance._

“What?” Lance says defensively. “I mean, you’ve been my hero since the day I joined the Garrison and then I actually _met_ you. Besides,” he adds, gesturing up and down Shiro’s body “have you _seen_ you?”

Shiro finds himself blushing. It’s ridiculous, after everything he’s done tonight, that a comment that he’s attractive would embarrass him, but it’s true nonetheless. “So neither of you–“

“Regret it? Nope!” Lance says, popping the “p” obnoxiously.

“So let’s just wait until Coran gets here and we can get you into a healing pod,” Keith says. “I think you’ll be okay until then.”

Shiro nods and settles back down, but finds himself shivering again, this time with cold. Lance gropes for a moment in the dim light and hands him his suit and Shiro puts it on, grimacing at the tackiness.

Keith and Lance get dressed as well, then settle down next to him again, and Shiro can’t bring himself to complain.

He pulls Lance into his side, drops a careful kiss into Keith’s hair, and finds himself drifting into sleep.


End file.
